


Down Where the River Meets the Sea

by magifrog



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magifrog/pseuds/magifrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dar'jhera didn't plan on getting caught after he stole from the Thieves' Guild. He didn't plan on taking the lizard along when he escaped Whiterun's prison. He also didn't plan on growing to like the damned Argonian so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To be fair, there was something about the lizard. Dar’jhera studied him as he swam along the surface of Lake Ilinalta, his emerald scales gleaming in the late light. Although he’d been a burden most of their escape from Whiterun, and knocked an entire shelf of potions over with his tail when they’d tried to restock in Helgen, he was a force of nature when the pair were traveling in the vast expanse of wilderness the province offered. So in the wilderness they stayed.

Indeed, his grace in the water was akin to a deftly-handled paintbrush, and Dar’jhera marveled at the professionalism in the way those long, sharp claws snagged the fish in the water. The moment was ruined when a outlandishly large, grinning head appeared out of the grimy lake.

“Impressive, yes?”

“Yes,” Dar’jhera sighed. “Now if only you could snag purses as well as you can salmon.”

“I will learn,” said Ilas-Ja simply, and he returned to the bank.

“Doubt it,” said his Khajit companion, taking out his dagger to clean the fish. He reeled in disgust as the lizard slurped a raw fish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Can’t you wait for me to cook that, at least?”

“S’better fresh,” said Ilas-Ja simply. Dar’jhera berated himself- if he had just stayed with the Thieves’ Guild, none of this mess would have happened, and he would be rich selling skooma and lifting jewelry from the local bumpkins. But now, his treasure was in the custody of Whiterun’s pitiful guard, and his name echoed around Riften like a curse word. It really wasn’t his fault, if you thought about it- he was a thief, after all, and there was no way they could just expect him to not up and steal-

“Darjeera?” The annoying Argonian’s drawl woke the thief from his ruminations. “If you’re just gonna keep stabbing that fish, may I have it?”

“It’s can. Can I have it. We’re not supposed to talk like civilized men.”

“Can I have it?”

“No.” Resigning to his task, Dar’jhera cut the remains of his dinner into strips, tossing the head and guts into the lake (to his companion’s dismay). Walking a few feet back to their fire, he tossed them in the cooking pot, trusting the natural fat of the salmon to aid in frying them.

“Smells good,” Ilas-Ja lamented, eyeing the pot the way a novice thief might eye a noblewoman’s necklace.

“If you’d just saved your fish, I’d have cooked it too.”

“S’good fresh. Besides, you’re a cat, you’re s’posed to eat it fresh too.”

“I’m a Khajit, not a cat.” Dar’jhera crossed his arms, scowling. “You’d do well to remember that.”

“You call me a lizard,” the other shrugged, tearing a chunk of bread from his share of the rations.

“So? I’m the boss, I can call you what I want.” Ilas-Ja seemed to accept that explanation, munching on his bread happily. It really churned Dar’jhera’s butter, so to speak, when the Argonian complied like that. He knew that there was a stereotype of lizards being lazy or laid-back, but this particular one was the poster boy for taking a punch. It was all he could do not to provoke him further, try and make him at least stick up for hims-

“Darjeera? Your dinner is burning. May- can I have it?”

“No! Gods be damned!” This was the icing on the sweetroll. Dar’jhera pulled the pot from the fire, attempting to scrape out his now-crispy meal. Sighing, he scarfed it down, knowing if he ate too slow or left too many crumbs his pet mooch would inevitably ask him for it again. As it was, Ilas-Ja was watching him intently, and it rather spoiled his appetite.

“You can go catch another fish if you’re so hungry, you know.” No response. Sometimes it was hard to tell if the Argonian was even all there, and despite himself Dar’jhera worried. A prison cell wasn’t exactly a place the well-adjusted went, and it wasn’t hard to tell that the lizard had had a rough life. Deep scars adorned his face and neck, and their story could both be imagined as that of a victim of countless Nordic atrocities or of something… darker. The Khajit hoped it was the former, bad as it was. He could deal with a spacey, raw-fish-eating numbskull, but a murderer was another thing.

In any case, it was too late. There was something about the lizard, and Dar’jhera wouldn’t abandon him now. He realized that he had been staring into his companion’s eyes for longer than was comfortable, and turned to soak the pot in the murky lake water.

“Darjeera?”

“Will you stop calling me that? It’s an easy enough name to pronounce, if you’d try.”

“Sorry. Anyway, what are we stealing next? Can we go north?”

“We’re not stealing. I’m stealing. You can be the lookout.”

“Can we go north?” Ilas-Ja repeated.

“To where? Markarth? Rorikstead?”

“Solitude.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” Dar’jhera stood up, crossing his arms. “We are not going to Solitude. Do you have any idea how many guards there are around there? Did you realize the entire blessed Imperial army is holed up in there?”

“I have a friend there.”

“Yeah, well, I’m your boss now, remember? If you’re going to be a world-class thief, you cannot start in Solitude. Ever. Sneaking into the palace may sound fun, but let me tell you, sneaking out is a serious pain in the-”

“I’ll go without you, then.” The easygoing, simplistic way the lizard uttered it made it seem like the last weeks had been nothing. Dar’jhera could feel a sudden lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach-  not necessarily at the thought of terminating their friendship, but at the thought of being on the run without any muscle to guard him. He paused, pretended to think it over.

“Fine, we can go, but remember, we’re going because I said so. Okay?”

“Darjeera?”

“My name isn’t-”

“The pot’s floating away.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dar’jhera had been cruelly reminded of how boring and tedious mundane work was. Not wanting to subject them to any more angry mobs, he had insisted they stop in Falkreath to do odd jobs. Ilas-Ja chopped firewood with his strong reptilian arms, and Dar’jhera made a few grave concoctions- well, if the weak potions he’d managed to slap together could be considered a serious affair. The woman at the alchemist’s shop seemed more like she was giving out charity than she was buying goods- but the thief hoped that his potions would be enough to keep a skeever or two down. Or at least, to give them a really bad stomachache.

They were nestled in the hay of some Nord’s carriage now, having paid their fare the old-fashioned way, and Dar’jhera was fighting the urge to push his scaly companion off the wagon.

“Stop leaning on me, nimrod.”

“It’s cold, you’re warm.” Ah yes, the whole cold-blooded thing. If the Khajit were still new settlers to Skyrim, at least they had the right adaptations for it. Dar’jhera had never understood why any type of reptile would choose this place as their home, at least not outside of the steaming moors of Whiterun Hold. The poor bastards. However, his patience was running thin with the lizard clinging tightly to his armor, and he scooted to the edge of the carriage.

“Stop roughhousing back there,” bellowed their driver in his thick Nordic accent. “Makes a nervous wreck of my horse.”

“Sorry,” Ilas-Ja said sincerely, looking pointedly at his boss. Dar’jhera sighed, resigning himself to his fate and letting the lizard lean on him. Really, it wasn’t that bad, it was just that having emotional ties in this type of world was inadvisable- even the marriages of this land were brief and to the point, many more out of convenience than of love.

And that was fine by him. Being born as a Khajit here was a hard fate, and since everyone expected him to be a thief from childhood, he resolved to be the best one they would ever hear about, his name going down in history. Well, that was his dream anyway, which had soured the moment he had joined the Thieves’ Guild. Oh, there were numbers runs and sabotages and grand heists, but he was just a faceless entity, or someone the guards knew from his arrests during the petty thievery days.

Yes, cutting ties was the best chance for him to be a master thief, the best way to be recognized. Which was why he wasn’t thrilled that he was stuck with Ilas-Ja. Or, that something in him was stuck with him. Suddenly hyper-aware of the lizard’s breath on his fur, Dar’jhera angled his face away and forced himself to pretend to admire the scenery.

“Darjeera?”

“For the last time-”

“You want to play See What I See?”

“No.” That had been the theme of their trek since leaving Whiterun, and it was not a fun game. Of course, the Argonian never tired of it.

“I see something green and shiny.”

“Is it the lake?”

“No.”

“The… grass?”

“Nooo...” Ilas-Ja pulled out an emerald necklace, grinning and pulling it over Dar’jhera’s head.

“Did you steal this?” The grin widened. “Really?”

“The merchant brothers were unpleasant, so I took it in return for my patience.”

“And you didn’t knock anything over? Or try to pet the guard dog?”

“I simply took it. It was there for the taking.” Dar’jhera marveled at the pristine cut of the gem, astounded that the unwieldy lizard could steal anything this valuable. He smiled and patted Ilas-Ja’s head.

“Good work, then. We’ll eat for a month on this when I hock it.” The Argonian’s grin fell abruptly.

“I can work for food money. Keep it.”

“Haggling is half the fun, isn’t it? Besides, you deserve your share of the-”

“No! I’ll take it back if you hate it!” The Nord in the front of the carriage seemed on edge, and Dar’jhera wondered how much he had heard. Steering the situation away from a scene, he just nodded, slipping the necklace inside his tunic. For the next miles, Ilas-Ja seemed distant, declining to lean on his boss’ shoulder. And maybe for the first time in a climate as tame as Falkreath’s, Dar’jhera felt cold.


	3. Chapter 3

As they neared Dragon Bridge, the Argonian seemed much cheerier, suggesting they stay there the night. Dar’jhera agreed, just happy his subordinate was talking again. Not that it _mattered_ so much, it just seemed counter-productive to have an apprentice-slash-henchman that wouldn’t follow his direction.

He lazily let Ilas-Ja lead the way, pausing beside him on the famed bridge as they looked down at the Karth river below.

"Can I know more about the friend we're meeting in Solitude?" The Argonian smiled, the scales on the corner of his mouth bending and shining in the dying moonlight.

"It's a surprise," he said simply.

"Listen, I'm not entering the gates unless I know it's not General Tulius or an assassin."

"Do you really distrust me so much?"

"I don't know a thing about you besides the fact that you're the clumsiest thing on legs since the invention of horkers, Ilas-Ja, if that’s even your real name." The metaphor made the thief-in-training snort, and he swung his legs over the raised edge of the bridge. The action nearly gave Dar’jhera a heart attack, and he wrapped a paw around the lizard’s arm lightning-quick.

“You know that I love the water, and you know I love to eat fish.”

“That’s hardly important! You could be a member of the Dark Brotherhood and I wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

“Darjeera, if I meant you harm I would have done it when we were alone.” Ilas-Ja’s tone was matter-of-fact, and he gazed at the river below longingly. “I don’t wish anything of you except for you to teach me, and I only want to visit Solitude to say goodbye to someone.”

“Goodbye?”

“It’s as you said, isn’t it? Solitude is no place for a thief.”

“I have a feeling there’s more to it.”

“Maybe.” Ilas-Ja leaned back, resting against his companion. For a moment, neither of them focused on anything but the roar of the river below and the still of the moon illuminating the darkened cobbles of the bridge. Then, Dar’jhera was suddenly glaringly aware of the number of hazards the night brought, and how much he hated even the slightest threat of vampires. Possibly because of the close call he’d had with curing one of their accursed bites.

“Hey, lizard, we should get a room for the night. You might like sleeping under the stars, but I’d rather have a bed and fire if we’re going to travel on foot tomorrow.”

The Argonian merely nodded in his plain way, hopping down from his perch and leading the way to the inn nearby.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“You know, if you two are looking for work, there’ve been reports of strange w-”

“No. No thank you. We are quite well off.” Dar’jhera breezed past the innkeeper to his room, sighing. Really, Nords expected heroics of everyone, even when he clearly was not up to the task of clearing out a cove of bandits or tracking down some long-lost journal. Ilas-Ja followed him questioningly inside.

“Don’t we need two?”

“Two what?”

“Two rooms, or at least two beds.”

“It’s a waste of money, you can sleep on the ground.” The Argonian complied easily, and Dar’jhera crossed his arms. “You’re not even going to argue?”

“I’ve slept worse places,” said Ilas-Ja simply, and his roommate barely controlled the urge to kick him in the shins.

“At least ask for the bed, it’s annoying when you just let me do what I want.”

“Why?”

“Because, I… you shouldn’t have to be treated like a dog.”

“Then why treat me like one?” Dar’jhera cursed the blatant way the lizard put it. It wasn’t like he was trying to be a bully; he just… was obstinate by nature, that was all. He’d been used to his siblings knocking him out of the most comfortable perch or wrestling him for the biggest dartwing.

“I… just… take the bed, alright?”

“You shouldn’t have to take the floor.” Ilas-Ja sat down on the furs some servant or other had haphazardly arranged, taking off his boots. “There’s plenty room.”

“Hardly.” Dar’jhera hesitated, unsure how exactly to proceed. Sure, he’d shared a bed with people before, especially in his apprentice days at the Guild, but this was different. Very different. Something was caught in his stomach, sinking and floating all at once, and it reminded Dar’jhera very much of the time he had gotten sick from a river betty as a child. In the candlelight, the normal verdant shine of the Argonian’s scales shone a brilliant gold, and it was all he could do to look away as the lizard made himself comfortable.

“Darjeera?”

“Y… yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No! I mean, it’s not… you’re just gross, I don’t want to share a bed with you.” A snort from his companion, who tossed a blanket on the floor. Inwardly, Dar’jhera was conflicted, but his face must have shown relief, since Ilas-Ja turned away with a huff.

Trying to get comfortable, Dar’jhera unfastened his armor, leaving only his tunic and breeches. The night air snuck through cracks in the walls, and it set his fur on edge. He tried not to think of the many creeping, skittering things that might enter the room, instead letting his mind wander back to the events that had landed him in this mess.

Really, it had never been a solid plan. Skimming off the top of the Guild’s profits was the start of it, but once it was revealed they planned to go after a national treasure, well, he was ready to go all out. If his dream was to wow the Nords who had persecuted him and spread his own name across all of Tamriel, surely the Amulet was the place to start.

What he hadn’t counted on was getting caught for petty theft- yes, a measly cabbage!- right in the very center of Whiterun. The more he thought of it, the angrier he got, cursing the grandchildren of the guard who had spotted him. As much as he’d have liked to resist, the truth was that his combat skills were severely lacking, and he would have liked to be able to re-enter the city at some point.

Which brought him to the first time he had seen the Argonian, a slumped, ragged figure in the corner of the cell across the way. He had looked so pitiful that there was no reason Dar’jhera could find to leave him, and as soon as he was sure that he could open his cell without the guards noticing, he did so, sneaking across to the other cell to unlock the Argonian’s.

 _Get up,_ he’d said, and they’d left, the other’s unfortunate clunky tail had forced them to make quick work of one of the guards.

And retracing steps through his memory, Dar’jhera found that he did in fact know Ilas-Ja, if not enough to trust him completely. Every place they stopped, the other would make camp as he washed his face in the stream. Every night, it was fish for dinner or rabbits for stew as long as the lizard was beside him. Dar’jhera had no idea whether it was simple gratitude or something undefinable by his standards.

In any case, he lifted himself off the cold floor, deciding not to waste a night hyperaware of the spiders skittering across the hard surface. Tucking himself in a semi-comfortable distance from Ilas-Ja, he closed his eyes and let himself drift off, only mildly annoyed when a pair of scaly arms wrapped tight around him. _Body heat,_  he mused, clutching the furs tighter around them. _It’s fine if it makes us warmer._


	5. Chapter 5

Dar’jhera had a serious headache.

After leaving Dragon Bridge, the pair had set off on the five-hour hike to Solitude, worn boots pounding the pavement. In the space of a half hour, the usually-silent Ilas-Ja was bubbling over with weird anecdotes and every possible medicinal use of any plant they walked past, which Dar’jhera supposed he should have listened to should they need to make an “honest” living again. Still, the only knowledge he was interested in was the real identity of Ilas-Ja, and the level of trustworthiness he could assign him.

“Darjeera, you seem troubled.”

“Slurring my name only adds to the trouble.”

“Is it about my friend in Solitude?”

“What else would it be about?”

“She’s a mage.” Ilas-Ja knelt to gather a few blooms by the road, examining them in the morning light. “She and I were close, and I wanted to let her know I was safe.”

“Ex-lover?”

“Sister. Elder sister.”

“Ah.”

“We’ve been apart years now, although I fear she might be getting into more trouble.” Dar’jhera scratched his cheek, a tense question building pressure in his throat.

“Why were you in the jail back at Whiterun?”

“I got in trouble,” the lizard said, more stubbornly than his usual floaty affair. The Khajit guessed it was a sign he should let the subject go, instead kicking up the dirt that had gathered on the messily cobbled road.

“I stole Istlod’s Amulet from the Blue Palace, you know.”

“You’re not lying?” Dar’jhera shook his head, grinning.

“Of course, it was a joint effort, but escaping the Thieves’ Guild is no petty feat either.” It felt good to have Ilas-Ja’s round, approving eyes on him, and he couldn’t help but puff out his chest with pride as he recounted the tale. Oh, there were exaggerations, as were expected with any tales of grand heists. As he came to the part of the story where he floated south down the Karth river in a barrel, the Argonian huffed and crossed his arms.

“That part is a lie.”

“Wha- why is that? It’s all true.”

“That river flows out to sea. If you don’t believe me, we can stop before Solitude.”

“Alright.” Dar’jhera didn’t doubt his falsehood, but it was immensely satisfying to come to a disagreement. Although Ilas-Ja was good-natured to a fault, some things, he was learning, were irrefutable to him, like the shapes of the stars in the night sky or the best way to snare a bird.

Finally, the arch of the cliff the city nested on was visible past the moors, and Ilas-Ja stretched his legs, bending his back in a mild mimicry of the landform in front of them. The pungent smell of salt and fish filled Dar’jhera’s nostrils, and while he didn’t personally find it unpleasant, it was strong enough that he could speculate it followed the dockworkers home every evening. Entering the city was easy enough. Apparently, he hadn’t been recognized while fleeing the castle, and he thanked the gods for that. His companion seemed to have a clean slate as well, and they hurried down a side street to a crumbling stone residence that seemed on the verge of collapse.

Ilas-Ja knocked once, twice, three times before giving up and attempting to open the lock.

“Are you sure you want to do that?”

“She’ll understand,” he said simply, clumsily snapping one of his lockpicks in two. Dar'jhera sighed and pried the piece of metal from his partner-in-crime’s hand, taking out one of his own and fiddling with the lock.

“Keep watch.”

“Yes, sir.” It was so hard to tell with his monotone voice if Ilas-Ja was being sarcastic or merely following directions, but with any luck the door swung open before they were spotted by any guards, or worse, Imperials (in Dar’jhera’s experience, the latter were far less corruptible).

The room inside was cramped but filled to the brim with tomes and vials, and Dar’jhera could smell the incriminating stench of skooma. _The poor bastard,_ he thought. _Does he know about his sister’s problem?_

On a torn, lumpy couch, the sister in question slept with a forearm draped lazily across her eyes. His Argonian companion chuckled and plopped himself down on her midsection, amused at the oomph of surprise his sister emitted.

“By Julianos- Ilas-Ja, you no-good, terrible-” The lizard was pummeled with a cushion, both siblings laughing, and Dar’jhera found he couldn’t help but smile at the typical display of affection. After a few minutes of roughhousing, Ilas-Ja’s sister froze, spotting the Khajit in the entrance. “Who’s this?”

“A friend, and my master.”

“You didn’t go and sell yourself again?”

“He will teach me his trade.”

“Ah. Which is?”

“I’m Skyrim’s most wanted thief,” said Dar’jhera with maybe a little more pride than he should have had. “Your brother is in good hands.”

“Yeh, he’d better be,” said the Argonian mage in an accent Dar’jhera hadn’t expected. “I can’t say I’ve heard of you, mister…?”

“Dar… Dar’jhera.”

“Huh. Something tells me my brother’s much more gullible than I am, Darjeera, king of thieves.” The ‘king of thieves’ sighed with exasperation. Apparently even in her Breton accent, his name was something that no Argonian this side of Nirn could pronounce.

“He is a good man,” Ilas-Ja said softly. “He helped me out of prison.”

“You didn’t have to go to that length, getting locked up like that.” Ilas-Ja gave her a meaningful look, and she quieted herself, searching for a different topic. “Anyways, I’d better make you boys breakfast, you’ve come a long way to visit little old me.”

Dar’jhera took a seat on the couch she freed up, more nervous than he should have been. The question of why his companion had been in prison remained unanswered, and apparently his sister knew the truth. As she lit a fire in the hearth, Ilas-Ja leaned on him, momentarily dispelling his discomfort. To be honest, it was hard to believe such a touchy-feely, laid-back person could commit any major crime.

The said breakfast was composed of thrush eggs and a white fish, an odd but not unpleasant combination. Somehow, although they had been cooked in the same pan, the eggs were overeasy and the fish was overcooked and rubbery, but Dar’jhera wasn’t enough of a master cook to protest. Besides, his stomach craved the much-needed meal, and the warmth of a full belly helped ease the chill of the drafty one-room dwelling.

“Where do you plan to go after this, Ilas-Ja?”

“We don’t have a plan.”

“Correction- I haven’t informed him of the plan.”

“And what is that plan, cat?” Dar’jhera fumed inwardly but pretended the remark hadn’t affected him. The callous nature of his companion’s sister, who had introduced herself as Kasaza, was probably a safety measure, especially with the questionable alchemic paraphernalia that lined her shelves.

“We’ll go to Markarth, city of stone, and practice stealing ourselves some precious stones.”

“Ha! You’d think Riften would be the first port of call.”

“The waters there are overfished,” Dar’jhera countered, not voicing the reasons they couldn’t visit the hold. Something told him that escaping the Guild would be more laughable than impressive in Kasaza’s way of thinking.

“We’re leaving tonight,” said Ilas-Ja, surprising the warring parties.

“What?”

“Why?”

“It’s urgent we leave,” the Argonian said simply. Kasaza shook her head, obviously used to his cryptic way of speaking.

“I trust your judgement. Just… remember to write when you go. I know you hate it, but I’d like to know whether my brother is alive or dead some of the time.” The two exchanged another long look, and Dar’jhera felt guilt rise in the pit of his stomach, briefly remembering his family across the border in Cyrodiil.

“I’ll remind him,” the Khajit said hesitantly, earning a nod of approval.

“Well!” interjected Kasaza, shaking the melancholy from her voice. “We may as well make the most of your visit. Let’s go out on the town!”


End file.
